


Shimmering Dreams

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-10
Updated: 2006-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-02 12:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: A hot day, a bright sun and two men wondering about feelings.





	Shimmering Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to my Beta, Gateroller!  


* * *

God, it's hot. Why is it we invariably seem to find planets in the grip of high summer or deepest winter? I've already removed my shirt and am patrolling in my black tee with my vest over the top and I'm still sweating like a pig. Carrying a P90 doesn't exactly help.

Though, I can put up with it just to be able to watch my archaeologist in his tee, especially when he's been thoughtful enough to wear the sleeveless one. It'd be even better if I thought for one minute that he's wearing it for my benefit but unfortunately he has no idea what it does to me to see so much of that wonderful skin of his. Skin I dream about touching, skin I'm sure feels as wonderful as it looks. Just now the sun is shining down directly onto him as he lays stretched out, arms out in front as he is carefully brushing off some rich black soil from whatever the hell it is he's brushing off. Anyway the point is, the sun turns his skin to burnished gold, more beautiful than any valuable metal, more glittering than any gem ever found. He is just beautiful.

I've wanted his body for some time now, lusted after him as I watched his six on off-world missions, or as I've casually showered beside him and then watched him dress, as if it meant nothing to me to see his body in all its naked glory. I've had to fight with every iota of my being to keep him from seeing my _interest_ in him.

For a while I was disgusted with myself for having such thoughts about my best friend. Oh, don't get me wrong, I couldn't care less that he happened to be my _male_ best friend. No, I came to terms with that about myself a long time ago. No, what upset me was that I was lusting after someone I claimed to care about. He is quite truthfully the best friend I've ever had. More sharing of himself, more honest, more open and forthright, more compassionate than anybody I've ever met. Inside he is beautiful. I love him. So how the hell could I think of him like that? Give him the staring role in my fantasies?

Then about a month ago I finally understood. I saw him do something that he has done before, too many times for my peace of mind and for his safety as I have spent the last five years telling him. He risked his life to protect my life, not just me this time but Teal'c and Carter too. I don't know why but that day when he jumped up drawing the fire of the attacking Jaffa to enable Teal'c and me to get into a better position to return fire as Carter ran for the DHD, I felt two things. One - familiar anger at the risk he took. Two - unfamiliar pain in my chest as I realised I couldn't bear to lose the man who meant more than my own life. In that unsuspecting split-second my life changed. I understood that I was _in_ love with my best friend.

While I felt better about my reasons for desiring his body 'cause I also wanted his heart and mind, I had no idea if I could let him know of my feelings. In all the time I had known him he'd never given the slightest indication of being anything but heterosexual but then neither had I. It wasn't exactly something that came up in our normal conversations, not even on our downtime spent together. God, not even when we'd been drunk! At least I didn't think it had, not that I could ever remember and seeing as I got drunk more often than Daniel, I think if I had said something he'd have told me. I think.

I've been trying to find the nerve to tell him how I feel. I don't believe he'll think any less of me even if, as I suspect, he can't share my feelings. I want him to know, I believe he has the right. He's had so little love in his life, he deserves to know. What I fear is that things will be different between us, no matter how each of us tries to keep things the same. I don't want to lose the close friendship, the camaraderie we share and I am afraid I'll inadvertently damage that if I say anything.

I'm really between the rock and the hard place.

I look at him again and at just that moment he pulls himself up onto his knees and leans back to study something in his hands and once again the sun hits him full on. His hair shines like a halo about his head, his eyes blaze brilliant in a face that glows. It's true that all that glitters is not gold for he dazzles me.

I'm filled with an overwhelming yearning to fill his life with love. I suddenly realise I am putting my own desires, my own fears before his needs. More than anyone I have ever met he ought to know, he _deserves_ to know he is loved. For his sake I _must_ tell him.

* * *

The sun is beating down on my back but I think what's really heating my body is his gaze. It isn't the same as the look he throws my way when he's simply looking out for me, protecting me from the world around me. No, this is _that_ look, the one he's been throwing my way for a little while now. I think I know what it means, oh God, I pray I know what it means. It'd make my life complete if what I imagine could be reality.

I know he doesn't realise I'm aware of it. He only ever lets his guard slip when he knows I'm not looking but I'm so in tune with him now that I can _feel_ it. Maybe that is just my own desires manifesting. I'm no longer sure of anything but my love for him. I've been carrying that around with me for so long that I've about given up hope that it could ever be anything but my dream. So at first I think I'm just seeing what I want but then slowly I realise I'm _not_ imagining that look in his eyes or the fact that he quickly camouflages it when I look in his direction.

I'm filled with an overwhelming need to fill my eyes with him and I pull myself to my knees, keeping hold of the sliver of pottery I had just pulled from the earth. I stare at it for a moment taking the time to gather myself before I lift my gaze to look at him.

Is there anything more beautiful? He stands there just a little above me bathed in the brilliant light of this strange world. He is tall, lean, his tanned arms thrown into focus by the black tee he sports. My eyes are drawn to the glimmer of silver in his hair and I long to run my fingers through it to see if it is as soft as I suspect. Then I drop my gaze to his face and I'm pleased to see that for a moment he has taken off his shades so I can see the sparkle in his sherry-coloured eyes, eyes that always warm my soul.

I see _that_ expression again and it takes me a second to realise he does not immediately mask it. Instead he meets my gaze unflinchingly and I am taken aback when he suddenly smiles. Oh God, if I thought he was beautiful before his face is now radiant and without conscious thought I smile back.

He's coming, slowly walking towards me from the small rise above my dig and I freeze. I want to go and meet him and pour out my yearnings, and yet I want to run as far and as fast as I can. Instead I do nothing. I'm unsure of what I'm seeing. Has he finally decided to come clean and talk to me? Is this just Jack O'Neill in a good mood and I'm interpreting what I see as more than is really there? Dare I believe the evidence of my eyes, or should I say the supposition of my own eyes?

I want to believe, oh how much I want to believe.

"Daniel?" he says softly.

FIN


End file.
